“Because he knew himself,” Frank said. “He knew if he kept it in the house, he might lose his nerve and give it to you too early, before you were ready. Or worse — he was scared he’d die with it still hidden and you’d never find it. So he gave it to the one person who’d make sure it reached you no matter what.” Frank put his hand over mine. “He trusted me with the only thing he had worth more than money. The truth about how much he loved you.”
Chapter 5: Put Those Boots On First
I did not sleep in my own bed that night.
I slept in my father’s chair, with the boots in my lap and the letter against my chest, the way a much younger boy might have fallen asleep against a father who, it turned out, had been there the whole time — just standing in the back by the doors, afraid to come closer.
